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You have hurt her.
He couldn’t have said what gave it away, but he knew he had. And he didn’t like that. It made him aware of the power gap between them, of the fact that she really didn’t have a choice, while he did. She couldn’t refuse him, and even if he allowed it, it was she who’d be left with the child.
She’s vulnerable.
A soldier who wanted only to serve her country. Who’d worked hard to get where she was. A soldier who’d made one mistake and who now was paying for it. She was right. Playing games with her wasn’t fair.
But...she was more than just a soldier. He’d seen glimpses of the woman she was, a passionate, fiery sort of woman, and it was the woman who interested him the most. Didn’t she know that it was okay to be that woman sometimes? And if she didn’t, why not?
However, now wasn’t the time for such discussions, not when she looked so shattered. So he said carefully, ‘I am Defender of the Throne. That’s my official title. And my purpose is to head the army, to defend Axios. It will be my wife’s purpose, too. In fact, the job of any prince or princess of Axios is to defend this country. It’s not the army, I realise, but the end goal is still the same.’
Her gaze flickered, a little of the stiffness bleeding out of her. ‘I...hadn’t thought of it quite like that.’
‘Don’t be blinded by titles or the differences in our social standing, Calista. There’s a reason Adonis and I wear the tattoo and that’s because we’re soldiers of the cause, the same as you. We’re the ultimate protectors of this country, and by marrying me you will join our ranks.’ He hadn’t expected to start sounding like his father, or, rather, like the ghost of the idealistic boy he’d once been. And it should have disturbed him. Yet he was rather surprised to discover that he meant every word.
She stared at him, a slight crease between her brows. As if she was surprised. As if he was telling her something new.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, after a moment. ‘You’re right. We’re both serving our country, aren’t we?’
‘Of course I’m right.’ He studied her face. ‘Why do you want to serve Axios so very badly?’
‘My reasons are my own.’
‘You’ll be my wife, Calista. Your reasons are now mine.’
‘But I’m not your wife yet.’
He smiled. ‘Did you ever think that goes both ways?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you’re my wife, I’ll also be your husband. You tell me something, I’ll tell you something.’ It had suddenly occurred to him that convincing her wasn’t simply a matter of laying out logically why this was a good thing. That might convince the soldier, but she wasn’t only a soldier, as he already knew. She was a woman, too, and though he might admire the soldier, it was the woman he wanted in his bed.
And that involved a seduction. Laying breadcrumbs was the trick, that and knowing which approach to take. The direct approach wouldn’t work with Calista when it came to this marriage, and if he hadn’t known already, he did after today. No, she required a subtler approach. Luckily, he was very good at that, too.
Her expression became measuring. ‘How do I know you’ll tell me? That you won’t lie?’
Clever soldier. He could get angry about that, be offended that she doubted him. But he’d given her no reason to trust him.
Maybe your marriage starts here.
If he didn’t want things to start off antagonistically then they would have to start somewhere. And although he liked the prospect of a fight, he wanted her surrender more. But she’d have to be given some enticement.
‘I swear on my brother’s life that I will be truthful,’ he said, holding her gaze. ‘And I will uphold my end of the bargain.’
She gave him a long, narrow stare then nodded. ‘Okay. Well, to answer your question, yes, I do have personal reasons for wanting a military career.’
Of course she did. No one was that dedicated without something personal pushing them.
Her fingers traced the carving on the arm of her chair. ‘My father always wanted a son, but my mother left him when I was a girl and he never remarried. So I decided I’d be that son for him.’
Not unsurprising. Timon was a stern, upright man, very like Xerxes’ own late father; he definitely had a soldier’s sensibility, so no wonder it had rubbed off on his daughter.
‘I hate to say it,’ he murmured, sipping on his coffee, ‘but you look far too female to be his son.’
Calista didn’t respond to the gentle tease, her expression hardening. ‘Looking female has nothing to do with it.’
Xerxes studied her, sitting upright and rigid, always the soldier. And a memory came back to him, of her standing before the mirrors in his bedroom, wearing a magnificent gown yet refusing to look at herself.
